


Osgoose and the mystery of the giant flying..eh...well...it used to be an egg

by GratiaPlena



Category: Doctor Who, Holby City, Untitled Goose Game (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Mayhem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 16:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21430888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GratiaPlena/pseuds/GratiaPlena
Summary: Kate Stewart, alien geese, Holby City's tragically bad writing team, and our favourite shiraz guzzling surgeon, meet in one confusing piece of - what I like to call - årţ.If you are into Cubism, chances are you'll hate this fic.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe, Serena Campbell/Kate Lethbridge-Stewart
Comments: 13
Kudos: 21
Collections: Untitled Goose Exchange 2: 2 Goose 2 Furious





	1. The egg that fell from from the sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProfessorFlimflam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorFlimflam/gifts).

> I do apologise.

Kate Stewart, keen bridge player, amateur garden architect, and mother of dragons, was sitting in her car. She had parked outside of her cottage, taking a few moments to collect herself. She sighed. It had been a long day at work. In the morning she had had a four hour meeting on how Brexit was going to affect UNIT's funding. It was looking bleak.  
Then some time after lunch, UNIT had picked up a signal from deep inside the Cygnus constellation. It had been a constant stream of Morse coded 'Ubax' , sometimes a frantic 'UBAX, then a quiet 'ůbäx', with an occasional exclamation of 'Shpx lbh, V nz n tbbfr!!!' It wasn't until one of the team had suggested decrypting with Rot13, that all had begun to make sense. 

Well...she said sense...  
Kate Stewart, keen badminton player, amateur trauma surgeon, and library card holder since infancy, wiped her face.  
They had not been able to pinpoint the source of the messages, but the signal had been getting much stronger over the course of the afternoon, until all of UNIT's many satellite dishes had been receiving a powerful last message: 

"V'ir tbg lbhe xrlf, ovgpurf! un un UBAX! Vagb gur ynxr!"

All communication had stopped after that.

If there was one thing that Kate Stewart, keen biathlete, amateur jodler, and winner of too many amagurumi contests to count, could not stand, it was an unsolved mystery. She had finally agreed to go home, have a good rest, and delve into this ubax-ing mystery afresh in the morning, but she had the nagging feeling that the mystery was coming for her, if she didn't demystify it first. ( A feeling, dear reader, that she should have taken seriously.)  
As she sat in her car, looking up at the stars in a desperate plea for inspiration from above, one star delodged itself from the tranquil night sky above the Holby moors, and came hurtling down towards earth, towards her.

"What the…" Kate Stewart, keen crossword solver, amateur cigar connaisseur, and local anesthesiologist, managed to exclaim before her expletives were helpfully honked out by an enormous crash. A giant metal egg shaped object was lodged into the earth, where once was her cottage.

"What the …" Kate Stewart, keen mural artist, amateur goldsmith, and serial cerial consumer, tried again. This time she was helpfully honked out by a thunderous crack. The egg split open, and from its jagged metal opening, a long line of geese waddled onto the small country lane that once led to her cottage. There they all stood in formation, row upon row of geese, as far as the eye could see.

Kate got out of her car, nervously jangled her car keys in her hands and spoke:

'Ehm...listen up, intergallactic geese! I'm Kate Stewart, keen midnight mystery shopper, amateur receptionist, and -objectively speaking - really quite gay!"

The alien geese looked fairy impressed.

Then a goose in the third row spoke up: "HONK!"

"Uhm," replied Kate Stewart, keen dental hygienist, amateur sandwich sampler, and keeper of the seven realms.

One goose helpfully carried an old combadge forward in his beak, that he had nicked from the intrepid class starship "USS Voyager". He flung it down before Kate's feet, and unceremoniously stepped onto it. The combadge chirped.

The goose in the third row scraped its throat. "Gchrr-gchhr." 

'Van Gogh," said the combadge in a pleasantly generic, feminine voice.

Then all the geese stretched their necks out and spoke as one: "HONK!!"

The combadge chirped. "Fuck you-ou-ou. Ou. Ou. We are the Geese, resistance is futile. All your cutlery are belong to us!"

"Right...eh.."

"Honk!" said the goose in the third row

The combadge chirped. "Honk!" the voice helpfully supplied.

Then several things happened at once. A goose ran forward and snatched Kate's car keys out of her hands, 40 geese had already squished themselves into her car like a pâté. Another 100 geese or so had ransacked the remains of her cottage, taken all cutlery and the front door bell, while the others trampled excitedly on their huge metal egg until it was cigar shaped (yes, let's stick with cigar shaped for our underage readers), built the doorbell and cutlery into it and rocketed off to unknown locations.

"Uhm," repeated Kate Stewart, doting mistress, amateur Russian hamster coiffeuse, and misinterpreter of revolving doors, just as the geese in her car had found the gas pedal, but not yet the steer.

And then there was speeding without steering, with a lot of honking, followed by...the endless silence of the Holby moors. If it weren't November, there would have been crickets. There should have been crickets. There were no crickets. There was no car, there was no cottage, there was no cutlery. As you can see, a pattern was beginning to emerge.

"Well, thought Kate Stewart, keen ornithologist, amateur bathing suit model, and the kind of lady that would iron her bath towels, given half the chance. (Voice over: 'She was barely ever given the chance, and she no longer owned bath towels. Pity, that.')  
"Well...at least I still have my wallet, phone and dignity."  
But, dear reader, she would soon discover, all of those items had been nicked by the alien geese as well. She just hadn't seen them do it.

Clouds began to gather over the Holby moors. And pretty soon the first raindrops fell from the sky on top of Kate Stewart, keen scarf collector, amateur kennel club member, and judgemental health food enthusiast. It was a remarkably local rain spell, as these things in life often are.

We will leave our heroine there for the time being. Desolate, robbed, soaked from the rain, and quite frankly - still really, really gay.

Don't worry, dear reader, she will be back in the third chapter of this story, if I am an unprofessional writer enough to not immediately bury my gays. And I can be accused of nothing, if not utter unprofessionalism.


	2. The giant, metal ***honk*** that flew through the sky

We will now, dear readers, turn our gaze to a hospital, less than a Dutch multi-day trip away from Kate's late cottage. And we will rest our eyes on Serena, surgeon extraordinaire, who was currently in a deckchair on the roof of said hospital, with her schnozzle in a glass of tipple.

Was she alright? No, of course not. I refer you to my description of her in the first paragraph of this very chapter.

She had become middle aged (yes, I can hear all of your Spanish gasps from here), and if she didn't get a shocking new life event soon, she would no longer be allowed to work in this hospital. Whatever. By now she had guzzled enough shiraz that she had stopped caring. Were they going to kill little Gwennie? Or her daughter? All for the good cause of excellent vascular surgery in Holby, she supposed... hey ho! She took another sip.

Her morose musings were interrupted by a giant,metal **hooooonk***, casually flying by at low altitude. Serena swore she could see a goose or two through the windows at its sides. She was far drunker than she thought. She raised one eyebrow (just because I think it is sexy; it serves no plot), and took another sip. The giant ***hoooonk*** disappeared from view. She stared up at the stars. Geese in a ***honk***¿ What gives?

Yup, now the giant,metal ***honk*** flew by again, a little slower this time, excited geese pressing themselves against its windows to catch a glimpse of her. She toasted them in salute, and the giant metal ***honk!!!*** honked its horn at her as it disappeared from view again.

Polite rocketeering geese. She liked them.  
In the next few quiet moments, she looked up at the night sky. She tutted at her predicament, and lamented the fact that another bottle of Shiraz had been drunk, its contents forever lost to humankind now, sloshing around in her innards, soaking her cells in blissful oblivion.

And there was the giant, metal ***honk*** again. It hovered over the roof, a doorbell chimed, a little hatched cracked open at the botom, a ladder made out of silverware was lowered, and out waddled a goose, wearing someone's dark rimmed glasses, stripey scarf, wallet, phone, and dignity.

'What ho," slurred Serena, as if she was some cheap Cazalet. 

"Honk, honk," replied the goose.

Behind them the swooshing of a giant, metal, vi***HONK*** (that was close) could be heard. It honked loudly, until it disappeared into the night sky for the final time, on its way to bigger and better places (Swansea).

When the sound had died down, Serena stood up, fell down, folded herself up in the deck chair, sprang out, and opened the door to the lower floors, all in one, fluid, drunk movement.

"Honk," said the goose.

"YOU! Zvvvvwwvery welcome," said Serena.

And the goose waddled down, into the dark depths of Holby City Hospital.


	3. The goose that played cupid

In the weeks that followed her nightly adventure, Kate Stewart, keen caresser of flannel shirts, amateur eurithmist, and national treasure-not-yet-uncovered, faced the trial of explaining to neighbours and police what had happened to her cottage, and all her earthly belongings. Only THEN could she get UNIT together, convincing her team that they had to recapture all the alien geese. They discovered that many a geese was dropped off at government buildings, and were wreaking havoc there. They categorically ate all the paperwork, locked people in their offices until 17.00 o'clock, made deadlines, and organised magnificent after work get togethers. Government workers were more efficient, and happier than ever before, fewer trees were killed... The threat was real, and severe.

UNIT wasted no time in dispatching its finest officers to go undercover at these places, attempting to capture the evil beasts.

This is why Kate Stewart, keen reader of the last page of a book, amateur hat designer, and scented soaps enthusiast, dispatched herself to Holby City Hospital, where a particularly clever goose was causing mayhem. Not only did the goose diagnose patient's feces samples at an alarmingly fast rate (we will leave to the readers' imagination how), she had also hacked into the hospital's Operating System, ensuring humane work shifts, and fair pay for all hospital workers. It had earned her the nickname OSgoose. Which, all in all, was a great deal preferable over Poogoose.  
As a result of all this, fewer people died, and the proletariat was quite content. It was disdainful. Someone had to capture the horrid monster in AAU ASAP, Fraulein!

Undercover work was Kate's most favourite work. She concocted an elaborate, and severely untrue backstory. She had been a major in the army, she was married to a man (a man!!) with two kids, but she had a secret lesbian lover. One had to make one's backstory palatable, you know? (She hired actress Heather Peace for this - no expenses spared, for extra palatability). She brushed up on her amateur trauma surgeon skills, and then she let herself be blown up - non fatally mind - by an IED. That wasn't difficult to achieve. She simply showed her lesbian backstory to the writers of Holby City. They practically salivated at the chance for a practice round of 'blowing up the gay'.

Kate Stewart, keen minimalist cook, amateur plumber, and lover of soft boiled eggs, had spent so much time on her back story, that she had forgotten to think of a good name for her undercover persona. When asked for her name by the ambulance driver, after her a succesful full body detonation, courtesy of the BBC writing department, she freestyled a first name. Then she added an e to her favourite animal for her last name, and thus the arrival of the great major Bernie Wolfe at Holby City hospital was a fact.

\---

It proved easy enough to find OSgoose. She was omnipresent in the hospital, stealing bedpans, hooking herself up to IV anticoagulation medication (no one likes a coagulated goose, let's face it), and biting Guy Self in the toes, or higher.

It was easy enough to identify her too. OSgoose was still wearing Kate's glasses, and stripey scarf and.dinity, and was easily distinguishable from all the non alien geese roaming the hospital grounds.

But catching OSgoose, however..! Not so easy. 

They say that things can be slippery as an eel. Well...those fishermen had never tried to grab a goose, that's for sure.

And so, weeks later, a fully recovered Bernie Wolfe was very glad for her backstory. She needed more time in Holby to catch OSgoose, and her story gave her a perfect guise. She flew in the extras, acted out the well rehearsed dramatic family business, spending time to carefully kiss Heather Peace a lot, and secured herself a prolonged stay in Holby City Hospital. What she hadn't rehearsed though, was forgetting all about her fake lesbian lover ( Heather Who?), and falling head over heels for her stunning coworker Serena mother**oink**honk**ing Campbell. 

And so she found herself, after some particularly gruesome writing on the part of the Holby writing team, on the floor of a theater, tearfully staring into the beautiful eyes of Serena.  
Outside of the theater they heard the flapping of wings, the cursing of coworkers trying to get into the theater, their ankles being snapped at by a fearless beak, their yelped retreats. But inside the theater nothing was heard but the squeaking of four shoes, and the beating of two hearts. And so Kate Stewart, keen most fantastic doctor in this entire hospital, amateur mere mortal, and deeply curious about the taste of Serena, leaned forward and kissed her woman.

A celebratory honk echoed through the hallways of Holby City Hospital.


	4. The furry slippers that were worn, and well loved.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Some initial gay panic aside, Serena and 'Bernie' were inseparable. And it was in Bernie's very best interest to not catch OSgoose. This was beginning to be slightly problematic. Firstly because the guys at UNIT were getting suspicious. Secondly because OSgoose had made it a habit to follow Bernie around everywhere. (EVERYwhere, you ask? Yes, dear. Everywhere.) Bernie had to only extend her arm in order to catch OSgoose, but where was the fun in that? She'd rather be doing other things with that arm. (Life saving trauma surgery, yes, that's it.)

When she was finally called back to UNIT for some pesky intergallactic conference, she almost misspoke. 'Where is Hanssen asking you to go on secondment?" asked Serena.

"To UN..U..kraine!" Bernie responded. She was quite chuffed about her clever improvisation, there. Honestly, these Holby episodes just wrote themselves.

It had proved rather impossible to get away from Serena without causing a bit of a scene, but it was good for ratings, which meant Serena could stay on as middleaged surgeon, without her family members being killed off. It was all for the best.

OSgoose, accompanied Bernie, wherever she went. (WherEVER? you ask? Yes, treasure of my heart. Wherever.) Communication with Serena was always difficult at these times, because OSgoose refused to give Bernie her phone back, and nicked any new phone that Bernie got her hands on.

But thankfully Serena seemed to characterise Bernie as a person with communication issues. That made for some more interesting backstory, and Bernie played along willingly. 

When the second alien waterfowl invasion hit the African continent, and Bernie got away from Holby and Serena with some vague excuse about furry slippers and bins, OSgoose accompanied her. Naturally. Together they flew from African country to African country, cleverly catching alien mallards left, right, and center. It was a little confusing for the Holby writing team, that she was in a different African country each week, but reality was a little confusing to them anyway. They let it be.

And on her part, Bernie never even noticed the various bombs, IEDs, snipers and other plot devices that the Holby writers were trying to employ to detonate their obnoxiously absent and expensive gay. OSgoose had a lot of gunpowder for breakfast, let us put it that way.

Right as they caught their last mallicious mallard, UNIT was brexitely disbanded. And so Bernie and OSgoose returned from their fowl adventure. Kate Stewart, never too keen on the Tudors, professional girl guide, and altogether quite wonderful on the palette, was finally able to come out as a scientist to Serena. And Serena instantly forgave all, because… well,... good sex goes a long way. And they happily grew old together, pushing swings on furry slippers until the Holby writers were forced to write boringly content-old-lady stories for them. Because their every attempt at assassination of a member of the Campbell-Wolfe clan was expertly thwarted by good old OSgoose. The entire family was remarkably unreachable through social media, did all of their banking online, and wore lenses instead of glasses. They also ate most of their meals by hand. OSgoose slept in a cosy nest of mobile phones, glasses, wallets and cutlery. And every Christmas grannie Bernie would knit stripey scarves for everyone, so that OSgoose had some great options to steal throughout the year. Pink furry slippers and some yearly scarf knitting...a small price to pay for happiness. They all lived honkingly ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HONK!


End file.
